


Ave Maria

by magicarnival



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicarnival/pseuds/magicarnival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She'd been beautiful to him, once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ave Maria

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to lj in 2008 as part of a prompt table I never finished.

  
She’d been beautiful to him, once.

Sometimes she still was, in a morbid, disgusting way.

They said it was a wicked thing to do to his former master. To turn her into some sort of faux-akuma, some soulless puppet for a cruel, demented mastermind.

\----------------------------------------------------

“I used to be an opera singer.” She tells him wistfully.

He stares at her in surprise and she frowns at him. “Come now, it’s not _that_ hard to imagine, is it?”

“I just—” Never imagined you as anything more than an Exorcist. Didn’t remember that you were a regular person once, too. Forgot that you were just like me. “—thought you were too ugly for it.”

She scowls and smacks him on the side of the head.

\----------------------------------------------------

Men do not leer at her, they only laugh. They do not think she is pretty.

He knows she is not pretty, because she likes pretty people. She likes to be around them, she told him once. She likes to feel pretty by being around them.

He hates when she is around pretty people. It makes him want to judge her. It makes him think about how ugly she is and how much he hates her for it.

Why couldn’t she be pretty, too?

\----------------------------------------------------

She laughs and shakes her head at him again. “Now don’t go getting an Oedipus complex on me.”

“You’re not my mother.”

She stops and smiles and looks almost sad.

“I guess not.”

\----------------------------------------------------

He lights a cigarette and tosses the wine bottle somewhere. It lands with a shatter and stains the carpet in red. The smoke curls in the air, lingering like lonely souls. He laughs, loud and careless, drunk with his new lowness in life.

He looks to see her standing against the wall.

He waits for that condemning look, that tightening of the lip, that tense of her shoulders.

But she just stands and waits—empty, sightless,

Ugly.


End file.
